


Burnt Out

by equilateral_asshat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Archived From My Tumblr, F/M, I guess one could claim 'Meat Aid' means two things in this fic, Nurse Mabel, old fashioned, pinecest - Freeform, pinescest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equilateral_asshat/pseuds/equilateral_asshat





	Burnt Out

Dipper frowned, and stared at his hands. Well, rather, he stared at where his hands should be. Not that they weren’t there! They were just obscured. Heavily.

Each hand had been cocooned in what seemed like miles of gauze. He had barely even gotten away with having the thumbs kept bound separately, which gave him clumsy, awkward mittens for hands now. It was endlessly frustrating. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t write, he couldn’t even use a keyboard. It was like trying to type with boxing gloves on.

Worst of all, though, was he couldn’t even hold a book. It was horrible not being self reliant enough to do that, let alone when the book he’d been reading beforehand was Emerson’s “Self Reliance”. Apparently the gods of irony loved screwing with him.

Of course, if he hadn’t been a complete tool, and had listened to Great Uncle Ford, he wouldn’t have burnt his hands. The rope wouldn’t have ripped through his grip like it was tissue paper, and he’d have skin there right now.

 _I just wanted to learn how to sail so I could go out with him and Stan, sometime_ , he groused. That had been the whole point of it all; the Grunkles would teach him the basics of sailing, and then he would get to join them on one of their wild weirdness hunts. But no, he had to try and show off. He had to prove the rope wouldn’t slip through his hands like that.

It also didn’t help that, in his eagerness to learn and assist, he’d forgotten sunscreen, and now had the reddest shoulders and back you’d ever see. This wasn’t bad enough that it rendered him itchy in addition to having mitten-hands, but it also happened to make him itchy when he couldn’t scratch.

He bounced the pair of white mitts off of his forehead.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

A gentle cough in the doorway caught his attention. Before he could even look up, there was a knock, and the door cracked open.

“So uh, heya, brosef,” Mabel mumbled, stepping into the room. “I know you’re still sore about…” she began, drifting off as she frowned at his hands. “About the accident on the boat.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” he relented, flopping backwards on his bed. “It was me, being an idiot.”

“Well, okay maybe that’s what it was, but can I just call it an accident and try to boost your ego even a _little_ bit here, bro bro?” She crossed her arms and fixed a stern glare his way. He frowned and desperately avoided her gaze. “Anyhow, I know you can’t, uh, do much with your hands so I wanted to let you know that if you need any help with anything, Nurse Mabel is here to help!”

“Nurse? What do you m-” he began, but she produced a white paper hat with a big red plus sign stamped on it from seemingly nowhere, and plopped it on top of her head. With a smirk, he shook his head. “Alright, fine, _Nurse_ Mabel. Am I at least allowed to get out of bed?”

“You aren’t on bedrest you dork. You’ve been moping. If you’re gonna mope at least lemme help put you in fresh PJs,” she suggested.

Immediately Dipper felt a small pang of… what was that? Fear? Guilt? Embarrassment? All of the above? Something about the simple thought having Mabel undress him made his heart hammer and his palms itch.

“I, uh, I can still dress myself thanks!” he insisted. She nodded once, then turned and walked briskly out of the bedroom, closing the door behind herself.

===

Upon exiting his bedroom, changed into fresh sweatpants and a very loose shirt, he trundled his way down the stairs to find Mabel waiting for him at the bottom.

Her hat had been joined by a white button up shirt, and a white skirt, completing the old-timey nurse look the hat had started. She even had a stethoscope around her neck, and one of the thermometers out of the kitchen drawer tucked in her shirt pocket.

“Uhhh, Mabes, I don’t wanna tell you how to do your job but that thermometer’s for making candy,” he pointed out. She frowned and ushered him towards the couch.

“Well, you’re right in that you shouldn’t be telling me how to do my job! Here at Mabel’s Arms hospital we know how to do our jobs!” He couldn’t help but snort sarcastically.

“Ah yes, of course, the name says it all.” He gave out a high pitched yelp as a pair of fingers pinched at his shoulder. “Ouch! Watch the sunburn, sis!”

“Watch the sass then, bro,” she retorted, pushing him to sit on the couch. “Now then, you need anything just let me know.”

“I’ll be fine!” he fibbed. She frowned at him, but then set a bell on the coffee table.

“You need help with anything, just ring the bell.” She walked off into the kitchen with a bit of a twirl, letting her skirt flare out.

Dipper mused for a moment that, despite his antagonistic grumpiness wearing off on her, the costume was actually cute. Especially on her.

_Whoa there, man. You must have delayed sun poisoning or something going on, don’t get weird…_

=========

It had only been about ten minutes when Dipper caved in and rang the bell. Mabel skipped into the room, smiling happily.

“What can I do for ya, Dipster?”

“I’m uh, kinda thirsty. Could you get me some soda?” he inquired meekly. He had the bell clasped between both hands clumsily. Mabel almost said something but made a mental note that he looked defeated enough for just having to ring the bell. With a small nod, she went back to the kitchen.

Returning moments later with a glass of ice, a straw, and a can of Pitt Cola, she opened the can and tilted it towards the glass.

“N-no!” Dipper pleaded. “I can do that myself, I promise.” She frowned at him, but relented and sat both down in front of him. She watched as he fumbled with the can of soda, grasping around it with both gauze-entombed hands, then shakily tilting it to the side to try and pour it into the glass, a frown of concentration on his face the entire time. Once or twice, he shook a bit too hard and dribbled onto the table instead, but after a slow, determined minute, he had the glass half filled.

“Okay then,” Mabel quipped. “Just lemme know if you need anything else!” With another twirl of her skirt, she was marching into the kitchen to wait until he needed help again.

=========

A couple of hours later, the bell chimed again. Mabel dutifully walked back into the living room.

“Yes, oh brother dear?” she asked. With a somewhat defeated huff he set the bell on the table.

“I’m… hungry. Really hungry. Do you think you could make me something to eat?” He frowned up at her, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh, I suppose I could,” she replied, with a faux tone of disinterest. “Wait right here!” And just like that, she was off. Dipper sat and watched TV while she hummed tunes to herself, an assortment of beeps, pans clattering, and the occasional whispered swear meeting his ears.

When she returned, she had a plate loaded up with a pile of sauce heavy, pasta-dotted hamburger meat. Dipper stared at it incredulously.

“What is that?”

“The only thing we had the stuff to make, right now, was a box of _Meat Aid_ Grunkle Stan sent back home with us,” she explained. Dipper grimaced.

“Mabel, gross! That stuff has hair in the food in the picture on the box!” he protested. She fumed.

“Hey, you don’t like it, starve or go cook yourself something!” she insisted. Her brother shrank into the couch cushions, tapping his gauzed hands together.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, I just… like I said, the picture on the box.” After a few seconds of shameful, downcast gazing, he sat up straight. “So uh, you can just set it there on the ta-”

“And what, watch you try to maneuver a fork with those mittens on?” she cut in. He frowned.

“Will you at least let me try to feed myself?”

“Well, either I can feed you, or,” she offered, pulling out a fistful of plastic forks and a roll of tape, “I can make you some temporary hands like I did for Grunkle Stan, when he lost his hands.”

Dipper stared at the craft supplies she held, then back to the lone fork on the plate, and back again. This went on for a minute or two before Mabel cleared her throat.

“Well?”

“I’m _thinking_ ,” was all he replied. With a groan Mabel just picked up the plate, gathered up a forkful of meat and noodles, and held it in front of his face.

“Just shut up and eat.”

Resigning himself to fate, he sighed and opened his mouth. Mabel stuffed the fork past his lips, but lost a small portion of the bite along the way, which fell on his shirt. He chewed swiftly, and gulped.

“Oh come on, Mabes, one bite in and you’re spilling on me?!”

“Well hold still! I fed Soos and Melody’s baby fine, and she’s a _baby_ ,” she fired back, gathering up the next forkful.

This went on for the next ten minutes or so, with a small pause here or there, so she could help him get a drink of soda. It was easy to tell he was growing more frustrated as it went, and when they only had a third of the plate left to go, he started holding her wrist steady with his mummified hands, and meeting the fork in the middle.

He noticed once or twice that Mabel seemed to be a bit transfixed on the process, and the way she stared was doing weird things in the pit of his stomach. Then again, that could just be the _Meat Aid_.

“Aaaand there, last bite,” Mabel said triumphantly. “Considering you’re only wearing about an eighth of it, I call that a success. Now c’mon, gimme the shirt.” She stretched out her hands expectantly.

“What?! Why do you need me out of my shirt?!” Dipper demanded. Hands on hips, she stared him down.

“You’re filthy. You look like Waddles after he’s done eating, now take it off or I will!” she ordered, leaning in and grasping the lower hem. Before Dipper could do anything more, she had him peeled out of it, leaving him feeling exposed. She carried it to another room, then came back with a wet washrag. Before her brother could even argue, she leaned down over him, one hand on his shoulder, and started to dab around the corners of his mouth.

At first he was transfixed on her face, as he was certain she’d be staring at him with disappointment. After all, he felt like an invalid at this point, having to be fed. He’d rather have just had soup via straw. Instead, she seemed to be concentrating on being as gentle as possible with him. There was nothing in her face but concern and love.

To avoid blushing as he dwelled on that, his eyes shot down, which proved to be a mistake. Mabel’s button up shirt was not buttoned on the top two buttons, and now he knew that she was rather fond of cutesy cartoon frogs when it came to bras. He also realized that, despite the new twisting sensation in his insides (again, unsure if it was the _Meat Aid_ or something else), that Mabel was, to say it bluntly, gifted. In the chest region. Before he could even think to, his legs slammed together tightly, and his eyes screwed shut just as tight.

“There! All clean!” she mused, leaning in and planting a soft kiss between his eyes. “I’ll go getcha another shirt, don’t you move!”

“N-no worries!” he mumbled. _If I move I might die of embarrassment…_

=========

It was barely half an hour before the next issue arose. Dipper was doing a weird, squirmy shuffle in an attempt to dig his shoulders into the back of the sofa, in a vain effort to scratch at the itch overtaking the burn of his sun baked back. If he could just get the right angle…

An idea struck! Placing his feet against the edge of the coffee table, he gently pushed himself up until he could get the spot between his shoulder blades right up against the hard edge behind the couch cushions. Sweet, scratchy bliss was his! Or, at least, for the next two or three seconds.

The coffee table gave, scooting away. His feet, no longer braced on anything, dropped his weight, causing him to flail as he flopped back onto the couch and tumbled to the floor with a heavy whump, and then rolled into the table, knocking the bell from the edge, where it clattered noisily to the floor.

Before he could even attempt to sit up, Mabel was standing over him.

“Dipper, what the heck?! What are you trying to do in here you loon!” she chastised, hooking her arms under his from behind and hauling him to his feet. “You’re gonna have to go stay in a real hospital if you don’t settle down and end up breaking a hip!”

“My sunburn **itches** ,” he hissed, writhing. Mabel pushed him to sit down on the couch, holding up a finger.

“You stay put. I’ll be right back,” she informed him. She swiftly scampered off to another room, leaving him to squirm against the back of the couch again. When she returned, she held a bottle, filled with transparent green ooze with bubbles spread throughout. “Turn around, Mabel’s gonna aloe you up good, son!”

For what felt like the first time that day, Dipper decided he didn’t want to argue and swiftly turned his back to his sister. She peeled the shirt off of him, and then the telltale sound of the bottle’s pump being worked a few times sounded before icy, cool, orgasmic splendor was smeared over his shoulder blades.

“P-pardon my french, Mabes, but hooooly fuck,” he groaned, shivering for a moment. Goosebumps rose across his skin, causing him to hiss as his patches of sunburn tightened, before the cooling sensation helped him relax right after. He could mostly only groan and sigh as she worked over his sunburn. Eventually, once the aloe had been worked in, he heard her grunt unhappily. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re tense as heck, that’s what. Hold still,” she said, digging her knuckles into the base of his neck. He drew in a sharp breath, wincing, and immediately she released him. “Sorry! I’ll, uh, I’ll be gentle,” she murmured, her fingers finding his flesh again, kneading with care. He felt knuckles digging along his spine, followed by thumb tips pressing under his shoulder blades.

She worked his muscles in small circles, digging at the knots when she found them, and eventually she switched to pressing the heel of each palm along his spine, from just under his ribs to where his neck and shoulders met. Dipper was in absolute heaven.

His mind’s eye was just replaying the entire day over. Mabel being so nice to him, Mabel worrying about his well being, about his pride. His stupid, stupid pride. And now she was giving him a backrub without him even having wanted one to begin with. He didn’t deserve to have a girl doting on him like this, did he? Especially one in such a nice looking nurse uniform, with such dextrous hands. And such nice boobs, and-

While a stifled squeak, he grabbed a throw pillow and stuffed it into his lap, hugging around it. Mabel’s hands stopped and she sat up straight.

“What’s wrong, bro? I hit a sore spot?”

“N’nope, just uh, just… nothing at all. Nope, nothing whatsoever.” He could feel sweat building up on his forehead as he lied.

“Dipper you’re sweating up a storm, how bad did you get sunburnt? Are you running a fever?” She wiped at his forehead with the rag, then placed her palm against him. His pulse hammered in his ears as he fought a tremor. Along with the urge to sneak a peek down her shirt as she leaned over him again. “Oh my gosh you’re burning up, lemme get this shirt all the way offa you.”

“Mabel, no, you don’t have to-”

“Dipper, stop arguing! If I’m gonna take care of you you need to let go of the pillow and let me-”

“Mabel please, I promise I’m fine, I don’t need you to do-”

“Let go of the pillow, Dipper!”

“Stop pulling on it!”

At that point, it had become a tug of war over the pillow, Mabel braced with a wide stance on the floor, Dipper putting all of his weight into clinging as best he could with his arms. Unfortunately, without the aid of his fingers, his grip slipped before hers did. He fell backwards, against the arm of the couch. Mabel staggered for a moment, then chucked the pillow away with a triumphant laugh.

“Ha! Now then, let’s get you out of-whoa…” Her eyes were pointed straight at Dipper’s lap, and when he realized that his sweatpants were doing nothing to hide the tent he was pitching, he snatched at another pillow and crammed it over himself.

“J-just, go away Mabel! I’m sorry, I’m weird and gross and-” he choked on his next words as he felt tears form at the corners of his eyes. “A-and you’ve been n-nothing but helpful today and I’ve been an ass a-and this isn’t how I s-should be acting around my sister, even if she does have skilled hands and all the patience in the world with me, and I’m sorry for saying it but you have really nice boobs and-”

“Dipper…”

“-and you look so cute in that uniform, I’m just so sorry! I’m such a selfish and disgusting brother and-”

He almost didn’t realize she’d sat down next to him and hugged him until he felt her squeeze. He froze, uncertain whether it was feeling her touch him excited or terrified him at the moment. She used a tissue to wipe at the corners of his eyes, and then grabbed another which she pressed around his nose.

“Blow.” The only thing Dipper could do was nod once, and then, with a deep breath, exhale. After he filled the tissue up, Mabel stepped away to throw them away. This left him sitting on the couch, alone, dick still twitching under the new pillow shield he’d acquired. A fat lot of good that did him, though, considering she’d already seen it. And the look on her face, she was…

Wait. What had that look been? He expected disgust. She hadn’t looked quite as disgusted as he felt with himself over this whole situation. He was still curled into a ball around the pillow when she came back, arms behind her back, and cleared her throat.

“W-what, I already apologized,” he muttered, staring pointedly at the floor. Mabel replied by reaching in and grabbing a corner of the pillow in one hand, before clearing her throat again. “M-Mabel, really, it’s bad enough I accidentally let you see that, d-don’t make me-”

“Give Nurse Mabel the pillow,” she requested, voice level. When he chanced a glance at her, he noticed that her frown was more one of worry and concern than disgust. It was the same frown she’d given him every other time that day. With a groan of self hatred he uncurled from the pillow, exposing himself once again.

“Mabel, really, I don’t know what’s going on but-” he started, but a finger pressed to his lips silenced him. It pulled away as she sat down next to him, placing her hand on his knee.

“Is it, uh… uncomfortable?” she asked, eyeballing the tent in his sweatpants. A small twitch there seemed to try and answer for him. “I mean it, um… it looks really, _really_ hard and I’ve heard that can be a little painful at times?”

“It’ll go away,” he mumbled, rubbing at his neck with a gauzed hand.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she stated. “There’s always those commercials that say stuff about boners lasting more than so long being dangerous.”

Dipper snorted when she said that word, because the inflection in her voice was too amusing to ignore. “Mabel, that’s like, four hours. I’ve only had this going on for about ten minutes.”

“Is… that normal?”

“Well, uh,” he stammered, rubbing at his neck again. “Usually they aren’t this persistent, but if they are I have to, yanno-wait why am I even telling you about my erections?!” he spat, suddenly aware of how fast the conversation had shifted. She apparently ignored his question.

“You have to…?” she repeated, and her free hand made a lewd jacking motion. With a groan he nodded, burying his face in mummified palms.

“Yes, fine! What do you think that internet history you snoop on is for?” he relented. He followed that up with a yelp as he felt the waistband of his sweats yield under delicate fingers, and before he could even protest, fresh air on his manhood. “M-Mabel, what are y-”

“Wow,” she said with a hushed, breathy tone. “Is… is it always that big?” He felt her fingertip trace the the edge of his glans, and he instinctively pushed up with his hips, whimpering.

“Mabel, w-what are you doing, you don’t have to-” he whined, but she shook her head.

“You can’t do it yourself right now,” she mumbled, her unoccupied hand taking one of his own, thumb running over the bandages. “And it’s making you uncomfortable.”

“Technically having you touch my dick is making me uncomfortable,” he noted. She responded to that by running her fingers over it again, which sent little jolts of pleasure through him.

“Dipper, you’re awful at lying to me,” she replied. “Pretty sure you were saying I had nice boobs five minutes ago. Sooooo somebody’s been checkin’ out the nurses.”

Crap, she had him there. Fingers wrapped around him in a testing grip, and he realized she had him _there_ , too. The fact that he had a girl’s hand around his dick made it hard to focus. The fact that it was his sister, who didn’t seem disturbed in the slightest by what she was doing somehow made it even more difficult. She gave a squeeze when her thumb and forefinger made it to the base, and he hissed, body stiffening.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry,” she said, grip loosening up. He shook his head, stealing a glance her way.

“N-no, it just feels… different.” Her hand slid up and down him once, experimentally. His spine tingled, his length giving a throb.

“Different good or… different bad?” she asked. A bead of clear, sticky fluid started to leak out, and with a pump upwards, she rubbed it into the crown with her thumb. He shuddered, leaning against her.

“G-good. Different good.” She gave another pump of her hand, and he whimpered, burying his face in her neck. “D-different v-very good.”

He felt her head shift as she nodded, and her hand move up and down him again. His hips pushed up into the attention, and she gave another, more confident stroke. Then another. A shuddering breath escaped him, along with a low moan of pleasure.

“See? It’s not so bad,” she uttered, voice a bit shaky. He nodded against her, even though he wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself. Her hand went faster, then gave one tug at a weird angle. He grunted with discomfort, grabbing her wrist in his mitts and readjusting her grip.

“L-like that,” he muttered against her shoulder. She nodded, and was stroking soon after.

Dipper could hardly process what was happening as one of his hands pawed at her leg, the other grasping at one of her shoulders. His sister was actually doing this. It wasn’t a dream, he wasn’t hallucinating, Mabel was actively giving him an old fashioned. His hips rolled up to meet her hand, and he heard her breath hitch in her throat.

“D-Dipper?” At the sound of her voice, he lifted his head to look at her. One second their eyes met, and in the next so did their lips. Dipper felt the sensation of pressure in his midsection tighten, then suddenly burn as he hit the edge. He broke the kiss just in time to mumble out a brief, garbled jumble of warnings.

“Oh f-fuck, Mabes, gonna-I’m…” was all he managed to spit out before he felt his member throb heavily in her grasp. It pulsated, launching strands of sticky, pearlescent heat into the air, then back down over his lap and Mabel’s hand. She gasped as she watched, hand still giving the occasional roll with each few pulses.

Dipper couldn’t move, now. His eyes refused to open back up. His hips refused to move. His erection slowly wilted in his sister’s hand until she released the softening flesh. Shortly thereafter, he felt tissues being dabbed over his skin, taking special care to make sure he was dried off. Only then did his eyes manage to crack open.

“See, that wasn’t so ha-” she said, but she stumbled on her word choice for a moment. “So, uh, difficult, wasn’t it?”

“I… uh…” His brain couldn’t formulate a response. The intimacy he had just felt a few minutes prior felt like it was being forcibly sucked from the room. He frowned as he watched her carry the wad of tissues to the bathroom, and heard the toilet flush. He tugged his sweatpants back up, groaning as he buried his face in his hands.

 _What kind of fucked up creep are you, Dipper? Why did you even let that happen?! You are an awful, AWFUL brother._ Before he could even start to cry again, he felt his sister’s hand squeeze his shoulder. Looking up, he did a double take.

Her shirt appeared to have come open another button or two, and her skirt was hitched up a tad, showing more leg. She gave him a shy, but comforting smile as she twisted in place a bit.

“Uuuhh…?”

“So, uh, Dipper. If you’re feeling… _tense_? Just let Nurse Mabel know,” she mused, leaning down to give him a kiss on the lips. His heart hammered happily in his ribcage. “She’ll happily help you find some relief.”

He immediately brought the bell within an arm’s reach of himself.

“Can do.”

-END


End file.
